Trapped by Lies

by Ella Miles

  I lie in Enzo’s arms on the couch in his bar area. My head pounds from the amount of alcohol we drank last night, but not once did I truly feel drunk. I always feel sober around Enzo. I feel alive.

  He snores gently beneath me, naked and adorable. Why don’t you think you are capable of being loved? Why, why, why won’t you let me love you?

  I run my hand through his hair, outgrown and in need of a trim. But I like it a little too long, a little too messy. It fits him better. Enzo isn’t perfect. He’s far from it. When he fucks up, he does it in a huge fashion. But that’s what attracts me to him. He may fuck up, but he makes up for it just as effortlessly. Life with Enzo is never boring.

  I reluctantly climb off him, knowing I need a gallon of coffee to have a chance of ridding myself of this headache.

  Enzo grabs my hand before I fully leave him. “Where are you going?”

  “To get coffee to try to stop this pounding in my head.”

  He frowns and pulls me to him, touching my head as if he can feel the pain there.

  “I’m sorry, baby. I knew we shouldn’t have drunk that disgusting liquor.”

  I raise an eyebrow. “You seemed to drink it just fine after you got a couple of tastes of it.”

  He sits up, grabbing his own pounding head. “Ugh, I haven’t had a hangover since I was fifteen and just getting used to the stuff.”

  “You really shouldn’t drink that much. It’s not good for you.”

  He smirks. “You aren’t good for me. Should I stop you too?”

  Oh, God, please no.

  “No,” I kiss him hungrily on the lips. “I think we both just need a taste of our poison.”

  He kisses me back, his tongue sweeping into my mouth and tasting every last drop of the alcohol in my mouth.

  A buzzing sound stops both of us.

  We look over at Enzo’s cell phone lying on the floor next to us.

  I moan.

  The buzzing continues, and we know he needs to answer it. My cell phone still lies in the bedroom I have yet to use. I like having it there in case I need it, but I also prefer sleeping in Enzo’s arms.

  Enzo pulls me to his stomach as he reaches down and grabs the cell phone from the floor.

  “This better be important,” Enzo snaps into the phone.

  I watch as he listens carefully and then ends the call without speaking.

  “Who was that?”

  “The real world calling. I need to start going to work on a plan to take out Milo and every man who would step into his place. His empire is similar to ours. Ending Milo won’t end the war. There is always another heir ready to take his place. I have to destroy the entire clan.”

  I nod. I know he needs to work. It’s the only way we will ever get off of this yacht. Although, after last night, I don’t plan on ever leaving this yacht again.

  He hesitates as he opens his mouth.

  “What?” I ask.

  “I really don’t want to include you in the Milo stuff, but I will if it’s what you want. I know you are strong and very capable with a gun. But this fight is going to be between men that have been firing guns their entire lives. Used to hand to hand combat. Know how to wield a gun and a hundred different ways to kill. These men watch others die on a regular basis, and I don’t want you anywhere near it when the time comes.

  “I promise to share the important details of the plan once we have one, but I don’t want you spending any more of your time thinking about Milo than you have to.” He strokes my cheek. He thinks Milo is who I dread more than the sea. He doesn’t realize the only thing I fear is losing him and having my heart ripped out because I fell in love with the wrong man.

  “Go, involve me in what you want to include me in.”

  “This isn’t a tactic to get another penalty against me in the games, is it?”

  I laugh and kiss him quickly on the lips. “Maybe.” I waggle my eyebrows.

  “I’ll win, even if I have to take a penalty.”

  “Who is ahead again?”

  “You are, baby.” He kisses me again and then throws my clothes at me. “Get dressed if you want to leave this room.”

  I sigh but put the clothes on. Someday we are going to have a place where I can go naked everywhere.

  I shake my head. There I go again, planning for a future that will never exist.

  Enzo dresses too, and we head toward the door that leads to the rest of the yacht and the world. We open the door, and as always, it seems like the entire yacht’s passengers have decided to greet us.

  Enzo frowns when he sees Liesel, but I need to stop putting off the inevitable. I need to talk to her. She’s Enzo’s friend. He obviously cares about her, and I need to know how much. I need the two of us to at least get along, and maybe she can help me understand Enzo better if I befriend her.

  “Hello, Liesel, would you like to join me for coffee while the boys work?”

  She grins. “I’d love to.”

  Enzo, Zeke, and Langston all frown at my idea.

  “I don’t think that’s the best idea. Why don’t you join us, stingray?” Zeke asks, always protecting me.

  I smile at him and wish Liesel would find Zeke or Langston attractive and within her reach, instead of looking at Enzo like he’s already hers.

  “No, Liesel and I need some female bonding time. We are tired of the boys running the show all the time. You guys go play with your fancy computers and guns and leave us before a while,” I say.

  Zeke tells Enzo with his eyes that he hates it and he can stay back to keep an eye on us.

  Langston shrugs, as if to say he’s not getting in the middle of it. Smart man.

  And Enzo turns to me, seeing there is nothing he can say to make me change my mind.

  “Behave,” he says, kissing Liesel on the forehead like she’s his.

  Chills of jealousy course through my veins. It was just a friendly kiss on the forehead, probably to try and persuade Liesel to be nice to me more than anything else.

  Enzo looks to me, and I know he wants to kiss me on the lips to show Liesel just how much he’s taken by me, but he thinks better of it. Instead, he kisses me identically to Liesel. On the forehead, but he doesn’t tell me to behave. In fact, his eyes tell me to give her hell.

  I smile. I know he wants the two of us to get along, but I can’t, not until I understand what Liesel means to him.

  The men reluctantly disappear, leaving Liesel and me alone.

  “Change into your swimsuit and meet me upstairs in five minutes. I’ll make sure Westcott has plenty of coffee to help you deal with the bags under your eyes. You want to hear my story. You’ll get everything you want. And you are in desperate need of a tan. Your skin is far too pale,” Liesel says.

  I freeze, looking at Liesel truly for the first time. She’s already wearing a gold and black bikini with a see-through white sarong around her hips. She has a full face of makeup, and her hair is curled in thick blonde ringlets. Her hair was darker the last time I saw her, but now she’s dyed it a lighter shade of blonde. And to top off her look, she’s wearing heels. Fucking heels! Why? We are on a yacht in the middle of nowhere, not going to the Met Gala.

  But reluctantly, I agree. I haven’t swum in the pool or laid out at all since we got in the yacht. If I’m going to understand this woman, then I need to do it on her terms.

  And the only way I can truly understand Enzo is to know more about his past. Enzo will never face the fact that he needs to heal as much as I do, but maybe Liesel will be able to tell me how to repair him before it’s too late.

  16

  Liesel

  I sit down on the lounger looking up at the sun. There isn’t a cloud in the sky. This should be my heaven. Sunning myself on one of the most expensive yachts in the world. Instead, it’s my hell.

  Because the only man I’ve ever loved is here with another woman. A woman he could love if he ever let himself love again.

  I hate her. She’s competition. And she could destroy Enzo. />
  But I also love her for loving him. I can’t fault her for falling for him. I did. Enzo isn’t easy to love. He fucks up as much as he does right. But when he lets you into his inner circle, nothing can feel better than being protected by him.

  Kai obviously loves Enzo. It’s easy to see. I understand the feeling. I’ve been in love with him since we were fifteen. And the one month I got to date him was the best month of my life.

  My heart broke when I realized I loved him and he could never love me back—that’s Kai’s fate. Loving a man incapable of love.

  I’m not much of a saint. In fact, I’m the opposite of a saint. I have a law degree, and instead of helping the innocent, I work for big banks ensuring they, and I, get richer. I like money. Enzo has given me plenty to live off of, but when the love of your life has been taken from you, you find other things to pretend you love to occupy your time. And I love the thrill of chasing money, pretending that fancy cars, high-end clothes, and big condos are what get me up in the morning. That somehow those things will love me back.

  “What can I get for you, Miss Dunn?” Westcott asks as he stands over me.

  I shade my eyes to see him. “Coffee for Miss Miller and a pitcher of mimosas.”

  He nods. I’m surprised he hasn’t already brought me a mimosa. It’s what I’ve had every morning here so far as I sit by the pool by myself, with Zeke or Langston stopping by every once in a while to give me an evil look like I’m the bad guy.

  They may have decided Kai has the best chance at getting to Enzo’s heart, but they forget, I used to be her. I used to be the best and worst thing for Enzo. And all it did was rip out my heart and make Enzo put up more walls, ensuring no one ever gets through.

  “Is this seat taken?” Kai asks.

  I shield my eyes again as I look up at the scrawny woman standing in front of me. She’s wearing a simple black bikini that looks like it came from Target, it’s definitely not designer. She doesn’t have any shoes on, and she’s wearing a baseball hat to shade her eyes.

  She has jet black hair. I have blonde.

  She’s a bit of tomboy; I’m a princess.

  Her body is covered in scars; my body shines from all the plastic surgery I’ve gotten to hide mine.

  We are so different, yet exactly the same. Both broken and hopelessly in love with a man who is more broken than either us. Because his emotions run deeper than either of us have ever felt.

  I force a smile on my lips and nod to the lounger next to me.

  Kai sits just as Westcott returns with our drinks.

  “Iced coffee, for you, Miss Miller,” Westcott says, handing her a glass. “And mimosas to share.” He places the pitcher on the end table between us and then pours each of us a glass.

  “If you need anything else, I’ll just be in the kitchen, and I’ll check on you soon,” Westcott says.

  I nod and sip my drink, waiting for him to leave before I speak.

  “You look like shit,” I say, not sugarcoating anything. That’s not my style; I’m blunt and honest to a fault.

  “Oh, um, I thought this was going to be a civil conversation where we try to get along for Enzo’s sake. I’m sorry if I was mistaken, I’ll just go,” Kai says.

  “Sit down,” I say, jerking on her arm to keep her in the chair as she tries to get up. “I’m not trying to be a jerk; I’m just honest and have no filter.”

  Kai glares but doesn’t say anything.

  “I’m not going to apologize for anything I say either, so don’t expect that. All I was trying to say is that you’ve been through hell, and it shows.”

  Kai narrows her eyes. “That doesn’t sound any better than what you said before.”

  I sigh and lift my hair from my neck where a scar similar to the one she will wear forever on her neck lies.

  Kai’s eyes grow big, and her hand automatically goes up to trace the thin line.

  “I used to look similar to you—not as bad. I only suffered for a few months before my own savior came for me, but I have the scars. With time, I’ve hidden them. Most with plastic surgery. Some with tattoos.” I hold out my wrist where the word beautifully is written in script over a scar on my wrist where I tried to kill myself rather than keep dealing with the pain.

  “All I’m trying to tell you is that you and I are more alike than you may think. And I’m trying to prevent you the same heartache I once suffered.”

  “You look pretty happy to me,” Kai says as her eyes travel over my healed body.

  “You of all people should know you can’t judge a book by its cover. I look happy, but I will never be happy again.”

  Kai bites her lip as she finally understands what I’m saying. “Tell me. Tell me everything. Enzo saved you. He took care of you. You loved him, and then he ripped out your heart.”

  I nod. And the same thing will happen to you.

  “Tell me, I need to hear the truth. I need to hear it so I can let him go.”

  I shake my head. “You will never be able to let Enzo Black go. Trust me, I’ve tried. But hopefully, you haven’t fallen as deeply in love with him as I did.”

  “Tell me,” she whispers again.

  I close my eyes, letting myself travel back to the worst moments of my life.

  “This is our new home, ladybug,” Mom says, squeezing me hard to her chest as I stare up at the big dark mansion.

  It’s ugly and big and horrible. It looks more like a medieval castle than a home, and not the good kind. The kind with evil ghosts, and monsters, and dank rooms.

  “What do you think?” Mom asks.

  I can’t tell her any of that. Mom has a job as a maid here. It won’t pay much, but we get a free room in the guesthouse, and the money will be enough to feed us so I can’t complain. And hopefully, the guest house won’t give me the same creepy vibe the house does.

  “I think we will have fun here.”

  She grins and squeezes my scrawny ten-year-old body tighter. “We will.”

  She lifts one of the two boxes from our car and carries it to the guest house. I follow, carrying the other box that contains all of our belongings.

  This will be a better life. It has to be. At least here we won’t starve.

  We take the next hour to settle in before Mom announces she needs to get to work. She tells me I’m allowed to explore the main house, and the owners, a Mr. And Mrs. Black, have a son around my age I should go introduce myself to.

  No, thank you.

  I’ll stay here and lock myself in my new room and decorate it. I’ve never had my own room before, and although I don’t have any paint or decorations to style the room with, I have paper and crayons that will have to be enough for now.

  Mom leaves, and I get to work coloring pages various pinks to line my walls. I can’t paint them pink, but at least the pages will allow me to pretend the walls are pink.

  I’ve colored twenty pages when I hear the noise. It’s a sound I know all too well when we were living on the streets of Miami.

  Gunshots.

  No!

  I saw the walls surrounding this property. I saw the men who guarded it. I saw the security cameras watching us as we pulled up. This house was supposed to be safe.

  We were supposed to be safe here.

  I don’t think; I run out of the room and out of the small guest house.

  I know better. My best bet at surviving is to hide under the bed or closet until Mom returns. But she is all I have. I have to make sure she is okay.

  I hear more gunfire, and instead of running away from it like I should, I turn toward it.

  I find the door and enter the creepy house. It’s too big, too dark, and too old.

  More shots.

  I run up the stairs.

  “Mom!” I shout, hoping she will pop out at any second and then we can run away from here. I’d rather starve every night than deal with the threat of guns in our own home.

  I don’t see her anywhere. “Mom!”

  And then I hear a different voice
, that of a boy’s and he too is crying for his mom. His cry is different. It’s louder and more panicked than my cry. He doesn’t long for her to be found; he longs for her to be taken. Because he too feels the pain that looms in the darkness of this house.

  I creep quietly toward the door, needing to comfort this boy more than I need to find my own mother. I’ve never heard or felt such pain. And it draws me in even though I know how dangerous and stupid it is.

  When I reach the door, the sight I see terrifies me. The door is mostly closed, only open a crack, but it’s enough for me to wish I’d stayed in my bedroom and never left.

  I see a man with demons in his eyes, standing over a boy who can’t be much older than I am. The only difference is where I have scrawny arms; he already has muscles. But those muscles are marked with bruises and scars. Scars I have no doubt the man standing over him caused.

  But that’s not all I see.

  I see a woman lying on the floor gasping for air as blood oozes from her body.

  “Are you really going to make your mother suffer?” the evil man says.

  The boy’s hand trembles, and I see the shiny black metal gripped in his hand.

  No! His father can’t be serious? He wants the boy to shoot his mother. He can’t.

  But I look to the woman who is already so broken and bleeding so profusely. Even if the boy doesn’t shoot her, she’s going to die. He might as well put her out of her misery. The pain in her eyes is unbearable.

  “You failed her. You were supposed to protect her. To save her. And you couldn’t. You weren’t strong enough to protect those you love,” the vile man says.

  I need to do something. Either go inside and try to stop it or run and get help. This is wrong. But I do neither. I’m frozen watching the catastrophe in front of me.

  A shot fires. And I squeeze my eyes shut, not wanting to see what happened.

  Slowly, I open them and see the boy now lying on the ground, blood oozing from his leg. He doesn’t scream or cry like I would from being shot. He welcomes the pain, like the pain is helping him avoid the torment his mother is feeling as she dies on the ground next to him.